The Dark Lord Triumphant
by Snarky64
Summary: Dystopian AU from the end of HBP. Severus Snape kills Dumbledore, exactly as he and his true master, Lord Voldemort, have planned. The reign of the Dark Lord begins. Canon character deaths.
1. Chapter 1

**All intellectual property is owned by JK Rowling and her minions.**

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

Snape had Draco by the collar as they came sprinting down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, jumping over the rubble.

"Severus! Wait!" Lupin called out.

Snape's head snapped to Lupin's voice through the smoke from the still falling masonry.

"Go, Draco! Straight to the wards. Stop for no-one. It begins tonight," Snape hissed urgently and pushed the boy forward then swirled to face Lupin who was nearly by his side. Draco just made it away as Snape moved into Lupin's line of sight and away from the rest of the fighters.

"Severus! What's happening? Death Eaters in the castle, is it true?" he gasped between bouts of coughing on the dust from the rubble.

"Dumbledore is dead," said Snape, his face impassive, watching Lupin closely. "Murdered."

"Wha ...?" Lupin couldn't even form the word as his eyes became wide and he swallowed audibly, his eyes darting wildly behind Snape. "It can't be. Severus, no!" Lupin made to get past him to the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going?" Snape blocked Lupin's path, holding Lupin's upper arm to restrain him.

"We can't let his murderer get away! It was a Death Eater, wasn't it?" Lupin asked desperately, his eyes shining, teeth gritted.

"Oh yes," said Snape, a tight, satisfied smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. "Indeed it was. I killed him."

"But ... " Lupin's confusion was comical to Snape as he pulled backwards, staring at Snape, unable to comprehend the admission. "But Dumbledore trusted you! He said ... he said you were on our side." Lupin's voice faltered.

Lupin was so _trusting._ The old man told Lupin to trust Snape, and the beast was so simple-minded, so pathetically grateful to Dumbledore, he did! Simpleton! If he'd lived up to his primal nature rather than pretending to be a wizard, Snape might have had a use for him, but he was weak ... trusting ... pathetic.

Snape took advantage of Lupin's utter confusion and swiped Lupin's wrist, so quickly and sharply that Lupin's wand clattered on the floor and Lupin cried out in surprise. Snape's wand-tip was at Lupin's throat in an instant, his black eyes hard like drill bits and he moved close to Lupin's ear.

"Werewolf," he whispered. "I was never on your side."

He moved back so he could see the look of utter disbelief in Snape's treachery in Lupin's eyes. Then he smirked.

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

The green light illuminated the werewolf's expression of sad betrayal briefly, then he fell, lifeless, at Snape's feet. It was an oft-anticipated moment that Snape wished he had longer to savour. Still, there was always the Pensieve for that pleasure.

But now to trap Potter. That would be easy; he heard him thudding down the stairs now. Potter was as foolish as he was predictable. He would follow. Snape ran down the corridor.

"It's over. Time to go!" Snape shouted as he turned the corner at the far end of the corridor, and he set off through the castle, blasting open the great oak front doors, Potter's whelp stopping to check on others (_the fool_) and then yapping at his heels.

The boy was running full pelt, gaining on them, as they ran across the lawn towards the gates. A Stunning spell flew past Snape's head and he pushed Draco on again. Backing away, knowing the boy would follow, he turned and they raised their wands.

_'Cruc-'_

Of course, Snape parried the curse, but as much as he'd like to toy with Potter's brat, demonstrate just how woefully weak and inferior the boy was, there was no time for that.

With one sharp arc of his wand, Snape Stupefied Potter who fell heavily, and then Levitated his body through the gates. As soon as they were beyond the gates, Snape pulled Potter's unconscious body to himself and Disapparated.

The Dark Lord would have both the prizes Snape had promised him this night: the death of the old man, and Harry Potter, his horcrux, for safe-keeping.

oOo


	2. Chapter 2

Snape's entrance to the hall of Malfoy Manor was triumphant, levitating the boy in front of him as his gift to the Dark Lord, his black cloak billowing behind him as the Carrows, Draco and Greyback followed in his wake.

"Ah Severus," said the Dark Lord. "It is accomplished?"

"My Lord, yes."

Snape laid Potter unconscious at the Dark Lord's feet. He peered at Potter then held out his hand to Snape.

"His wand?"

Snape presented it to him. The Dark Lord held the wand between both his hands, turning it over, almost reverentially. He looked at Potter once more and snapped the holly wand without compunction.

"And now there is no twin," he sneered. He pulled out the phoenix feather and threw it on the fire. The fire flared red and then gold and the feather burned black. "It is only an empty vessel and a broken one at that." He threw it on the floor, next to Potter.

"Tell me how the old man died, Severus. Did he ask you to kill him?" His crimson eyes flashed in anticipation.

"He begged me to do it, my Lord," smirked Snape, "to save Draco's soul. His trust in me never wavered."

The Dark Lord's contemptuous smile formed slowly as his gaze roved to Draco, who cringed as he looked around the room for his mother. "Of course, Lucius Malfoy's son would fail. It was as we expected. But no matter. From tonight's events, I shall form the new order for the Wizarding world – each shall have his place."

"The Order's werewolf is dead as well."

"At your hand?"

Snape nodded, smugly.

"Bravo, Severus. I trust you enjoyed the extermination."

"I did indeed, my Lord." Snape heard Greyback growl behind him and wondered briefly if the half-breed resented the use of the word.

"We all played our parts!" growled Greyback. "I got one of them too. Dunno which. It was a Weasley though."

"William Weasley was there," supplied Snape, recalling he had seen the eldest Weasley and Greyback fighting as he had entered the Tower.

"Well done, Greyback. Well done. A regrettable waste of pure blood but," the Dark Lord sighed, "a lesson for the rest of the blood traitors." He circled the prone form of Potter again. "But the Order members are nothing now. Dumbledore is gone and the ..." the Dark Lord snorted in derision, "_Chosen One_ is in my hands. It is only a matter of weeks before the Ministry follows. Leave us!" The Dark Lord waved the others away. Grumbling still, Greyback led the others from the hall, leaving Snape with the Dark Lord as he stepped over the boy.

"And now the question is: what do we do with him?"

"It is difficult, my Lord. The old man as good as told me that a splinter of your soul resides in the boy's scar. If you kill him, your soul fragment dies too. If you let him live, there is a chance the Order may try to rescue him or he could escape."

"Yes," mused the Dark Lord, lingering sibilantly on the word. "Such an unworthy vessel. He must not be harmed until we can secure the soul shred in a new, inviolate horcrux."

"Can it be transferred, my Lord?"

The Dark Lord ran the yew wand through his long, white fingers. "I have gone further in soul magic than any wizard before me. I will find a way."

"I instructed Zabini and Parkinson that, should I leave the castle suddenly, they are to Summon the restricted books from Dumbledore's study and give them to Goyle for his father. We should have them by tomorrow. Do you wish me to research this for you, my Lord?"

"Good thinking, Severus. Bring them to me first. I will then decide. See to our guest, Severus. Ensure he is secured - and silent. Then return to me. I have much I wish to discuss you."

With a curt nod, Snape levitated the unconscious body away. Potter was to be kept until the soul fragment was safely encased in a more fitting receptacle. Snape knew that the Dark Lord would want something of great magical importance.

Snape placed Potter in one of the many Malfoy bedrooms. He bound him fast then fed him a sleeping potion. As he did so, he wondered dispassionately whether the Dark Lord would kill the boy when the soul shred was extracted. Perhaps it made no difference; perhaps it was too dangerous to give the Dark Lord's enemies a figurehead. He checked the boy's pulse. _Steady._ Then he enchanted the room against intrusion or escape. All this he did without a second glance and with no regret. Dumbledore had made much of Potter's eyes being like Lily's, but he was a poor reflection of the mother. Too much of his father was evident in his looks and arrogance. Snape hoped he would not be assigned to be Potter's nursemaid. Perhaps, Narcissa? Yes, he would suggest Narcissa. He returned to the Dark Lord

"You have done well, Severus. To think there was a time I questioned your allegiance."

Snape bowed low. It was true: Dumbledore had nearly fooled him but it was the Dark Lord who had kept his word. Potter's memories had even confirmed it in their Occlumency lessons. The Dark Lord had ordered Lily out of the way, the reward for his faithful servant. She - the stupid girl - had refused to be saved. It was her own fault she had died – hers and the brat's. Dumbledore had failed him, but the Dark Lord had kept his promise. For that, Snape was loyal; loyal to the only man who had always given Snape respect that was his due and who had ensured Snape's revenge on all those who had belittled him throughout his life.

Now, none could ever displace him in the Dark Lord's hierarchy. He would always be at the Dark Lord's right hand. Now, he would not have to hide his allegiance or pretend to be the unrequited lover, forever in mourning, for Dumbledore's imbecilic belief in love. It had been a long and arduous path: he had had to suppress his own ambitions and needs, but now he would be free to live again.

The Dark Lord walked to the table and took a seat, motioning for Snape to join him.

"Once you told me the old man had worked out my safety measures, I realised I would need to check on the remaining horcruxes. Lucius already lost the diary. I doubt he will ever be able to make that error up to me. Dumbledore destroyed the ring. One is always with me, as the old man surmised." A long slender hand indicated Nagini, who curled herself around the table legs. "I travel out tomorrow to check another. After that, I will check that which I have hidden at Hogwarts when you are appointed Headmaster."

"Is that still necessary, my Lord?" asked Snape, somewhat crestfallen. He had hoped to sever all association with the school upon Dumbledore's death, breaking his promise to safeguard the children. As if he cared! The Dark Lord's plans for the fall of the Ministry were far more interesting and the long-term plans to place sleepers in positions of power in the Muggle government needed refinement. These were the plans Snape wanted.

"I know I have asked a great deal of you in this, Severus, but you are my most trusted servant. I think it will only be necessary for a short time and then I will place you where your inestimable talents will be of more use. But in the meantime, I need access to the castle to check of one of the vessels. The Ministry must be in my hands before I can risk your venturing near the school again and to gain access to the Lestrange vault. But I want access to the castle for another reason, Severus. Once I can transfer the soul fragment, the castle has the perfect receptacle – the one I want, Severus, the one that would be so – _appropriate_ – for the one housed by James Potter's son."

"And that would be, my Lord?"

"The sword of Godric Gryffindor."

Snape smiled tightly. How appalled Dumbledore would be, had he lived. He would see it as a desecration. How he used to vex Snape with preposterous stories of the sword presenting itself to any worthy Gryffindor. Then he recalled one of the attributes of which Dumbledore had boasted.

"The sword is goblin-made, my Lord. It only takes in that which makes it stronger. Will it take part of a soul?"

"It is _my _soul, Severus. How could that _not_ make it stronger?"

~oOo~


	3. Chapter 3

**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE MURDERED!** screamed 'The Daily Prophet'.

Snape sipped his tea.

**THE BOY-WHO-LIVED SEEN RUNNING FROM THE SCENE OF THE CRIME ...**

Snape buttered his toast as his black eyes devoured the newsprint.

**... PURSUED BY POTIONS MASTER!**

Snape raised one eyebrow sardonically as he read the breathless prose that bore no relation to the reality of what had happened that night.

There were fears for Snape's safety. How extraordinary. Of course, since Potter wasn't there to tell the tale, how would anyone now know that it was Snape who had cast the killing curse? He read on.

There were concerns for Potter's mental stability. Skeeter took the opportunity to remind her readers of her warnings two years previously. As venomous as any viper, it always surprised Snape that Skeeter had not been a Slytherin.

Parkinson and Zabini had certainly proved very useful in ensuring they were the first to be interviewed by Skeeter. Parkinson's father and Zabini's latest step-father were influential at the Ministry – that will have helped. Thicknesse ensured that the Aurors had been mis-directed. Of course, Tonks could be an issue, but, if Snape had read the signs right, she would be too preoccupied mooning over the werewolf's death. Snape smirked at his own humour.

"Speaking of which," he muttered to himself. He flicked through the pages, scanning the various paragraphs. Finally, he found it: the death of the werewolf was a footnote on page 37. He leered unpleasantly. Snape revelled in the fact he had sent the werewolf into oblivion. Dumbledore had never understood how deeply Wizarding prejudice against half-breeds ran. Even 'The Daily Prophet' could barely acknowledge the werewolf's existence.

He returned to the main article. William Weasley had not been killed after all, but badly injured. Greyback would have to answer for that failure, Snape was sure.

Draco had not been mentioned at all. Snape was quite impressed that Thicknesse had managed to hush up the boy's presence on the Tower. He was not surprised though. Indeed, he knew how deeply the corruption ran in the Ministry, especially where the name Malfoy was concerned. He sneered at the venality of the officials, but he supposed old habits died hard, but he also knew this would, eventually, play into the hands of the Dark Lord.

He cast the paper aside and leant on his hand, as he pulled the Muggle newspaper to himself and scanned the politics and international news sections. He spotted an article on how MPs were overworked and at risk of nervous breakdown. It discussed the current condition of Herbert Chorley, who no longer thought he was a duck, but was in long-term psychiatric care.

Yaxley had been foolish to cast an _Imperius_ curse of such ferocity on a Muggle; he'd fried the man's brain. Snape would not make that mistake. Not only had Snape chosen the junior Defence minister for his target with great care, but he knew that mind magic, like Potions, took skill, subtlety and even a certain amount of grace – something Yaxley would never understand but at which Snape excelled.

Since returning to the Dark Lord's service, Snape had been studying Muggle politics and its military strength, but most of all its technology. Snape smirked – they called their technology 'wizardry'. How very drole. But there was no doubt, their world was dependent on this technology: it delivered practically everything that made the Muggle world work.

The Dark Lord had sneered at Snape's ideas to begin with as he loathed everything Muggle. Snape was sure that control of strategic people in government, commerce and in the Muggle armed forces would serve the Dark Lord far better than unattributed murders and the planned release of Dementors. For the Dark Lord to rule, he must be in control. To be in control, he must understand what to control and how. Snape had managed to convince him after many hours of debate that once the Wizarding world was under the Dark Lord's control, traitors would look to Muggles to protect them – to turn on the magical world and suppress it. The Dark Lord would need to control Muggles too if Wizardkind were to come out of hiding and his victory would then be complete.

As he considered what he read, Goyle barged into his room, arms laden with books: Dumbledore's arcane collection! As much of a lummox as his son, Goyle grunted his greetings to Snape as he hefted the books onto his table. Snape rose to advise the Dark Lord that the books had arrived.

"And there's this," Goyle said, fishing something out of his robe pocket. Snape frowned as he saw an open locket swinging from Goyle's fat fingers with a folded note inside.

"What's this?"

"Parkinson's girl found it next to the body of the old man. She said to bring it to you."

Snape took the note.

_To the Dark Lord  
__I know I will be dead long before you read this  
__but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.  
__I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.  
__I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,  
__you will be mortal once more.  
__R.A.B._

Regulus. The bloody fool. This must have been how he died. Snape had always wondered. He snorted: so Regulus turned blood traitor in the end. No wonder his mother's portrait was demented.

"Did Parkinson read this?" Snape asked.

"Don't think so. She just said she thought it might be important."

Snape nodded, still intent on the note. Goyle stood there, as if waiting for something.

"Most of the Slytherins have left the school," said Goyle. "The other students are staying for the old man's funeral." He looked at his feet under Snape's baleful glare. "Thought you'd want to know – you know, as head of House."

"Not any more," Snape muttered as he swept from the room.

~oOo~

The Dark Lord stared at the locket and the note, his red eyes seeming to glow like a banked fire, waiting to be stoked.

"Black," he hissed. "He must have found out from that elf ... but how? How did it survive to tell?"

"That house-elf now works at Hogwarts. It's owned by Potter. Perhaps Narcissa may still be able to turn its loyalties once more, my Lord. Perhaps it knows more."

It had been ridiculously easy for Narcissa to call the house-elf to her. It loathed Potter and looked for any way to defy both the boy and Dumbledore. Snape was quite struck by how much viciousness the house-elf had.

Gently and kindly (both of which emotions Snape knew Narcissa did not feel for house-elves), Narcissa coaxed the house-elf to speak. It had brought the locket back to Grimmauld Place but had been unable to destroy it. It had resided in a cabinet for all those years until Sirius Black threw it out. Kreacher had rescued it and placed it in his nest, but Mundungus Fletcher had stolen it, shortly after Black had died.

"I know Fletcher. He's nothing but a smelly sneak-thief. Let me find him, my Lord."

"Very well. But bring him to me. I will get the information that I need."

~oOo~


	4. Chapter 4

Mundungus Fletcher had been easy to track down once Snape had reached Knockturn Alley. He was always to be found in the most disreputable of places. Sticking mainly to the deep shadow cast by the crooked buildings, and Disillusioned, Snape passed by the nefarious and notorious clientele unnoticed until he caught up with Fletcher just before he entered _The Three Brothers Tavern_ with a suitcase of his wares.

"'Ere! Hoi!" the grubby little man protested as he found himself pulled into side-along Apparition and was then marched, blindfolded, into Malfoy Manor and presented to the Dark Lord.

"Is he useful?" murmured the Dark Lord, looking disdainfully at the startled man before him as Snape removed his own Disillusionment charm.

"Waddya mean 'useful'?" Fletcher squawked.

"You cannot Disapparate from here," Snape said calmly to Fletcher, who snapped his head to one side, clearly recognising Snape's voice. "Best not to try. He has some use, my Lord. He is an excellent ... procurer"

"Then _procure_ what I need, Severus, and then see to it he remembers nothing more." The Dark Lord left the room.

"'Ere, whas goin' on? I thought you was with us? Ain'tcha?"

Snape would have loved to have told Fletcher the truth, but what did Mundungus Fletcher matter to Snape? And, if Fletcher was to live, it was best not to give information that might be obtained by an expert Legilimens – not that there were many of them – certainly none as skilled as Dumbledore had been or as ruthless as the Dark Lord. Still, it was best not to take risks.

"Of course, I'm with you. I've just saved your life, have I not?" said Snape, silkily.

Fletcher stopped fidgeting and Snape removed the magical blindfold.

"_Confundus_," incanted Snape quickly, and Fletcher became quite still. "You stole a locket from Grimmauld Place, large, gold and with an engraved 'S' on the front. What happened to it?"

"Give it away. Some old bat from the Ministry," Fletcher replied, his face oddly blank. "Threatened me, she did."

"Do you know her?"

"Never seen 'er before."

"I need to look at your memory. You want me to know. You want to co-operate. Bring her to your mind now." Fletcher nodded, his eyes never leaving Snape's. "_Legilimens!"_ whispered Snape, his wand pointing at Fletcher's face. He accessed Fletcher's memories with absurd ease, and the visage of Dolores Umbridge floated to the surface, demanding the locket for her silence.

Snape snorted. _"Obliviate."_

~oOo~

Yaxley had been quite agitated that the Dark Lord insisted that Snape transform into him with Polyjuice and undertake a secret errand at the Ministry.

"Why you, and not me?" he demanded gruffly.

"I'm sure you have secrets that the Dark Lord has entrusted to no other," replied Snape, smoothly, knowing that was highly unlikely. "Don't worry. I will only do what is necessary."

Nodding abruptly, they parted company and Snape set out for the Ministry, with that feeling of discomfort that being in a different body always brought: this one, taller, broader, but with restricted breathing, stiffer limbs and a dull sense of smell. Snape hated Polyjuice.

It wasn't hard to imitate Yaxley's arrogance: he had met enough pure-bloods to walk the corridors of the Ministry as if he had been born to power. He received all the obsequious nods in his stride as his entitlement and found the disgraced former Undersecretary's office with ease.

"Dolores," he said, entering the crampt office without knocking.

"Ah, Yaxley." Umbridge stood, her back straight and defensive, a false, simpering smile on her ugly face. The locket hung around her neck, visible to all. She did not even try to hide it. "Did Pius send you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Snape sat in the chair and waited for Umbridge to sit.

"Does he have work for me? Magical law enforcement is my speciality after all," she preened.

"Actually, Dolores," said Snape quietly, "he has received a formal complaint."

"A complaint! Whatever can you mean? About me?" Her voice rose in pitch.

"The locket you wear ..."

"This," she said, holding the locket between her stubby fingers, "is a Selwyn family heirloom. I am related, you see ..."

"As I was saying," he said, repressively. "It is a Black family heirloom. The heir to the Black estate has been trying to trace it." He did not, of course, tell her that the heir was Potter; let her think it was a Malfoy or a Lestrange. "We have ... retrieved a memory of you _acquiring_ the locket from a well-known thief ..."

"I ... have NEVER been so ... so insulted!" Umbridge blustered.

Snape raised a silencing hand.

"Never mind that, Dolores. If you protest your innocence, then I must allow the complaint to be lodged formally. Of course, with the damage done to your reputation by your time at Hogwarts ..."

"Everything I did was for the good of the Ministry itself!"

"Surely, you see that discretion is the better part of valour here, Dolores. You cannot afford another blot on your record. And of course, discretion is always greatly valued by Pius and I am sure it would be rewarded."

Umbridge pulled at the collar of her green robe nervously and fiddled with the chain of the locket.

"Well, since you put it like that ... I suppose ..."

"Very good, Dolores." Snape stood and held out his hand and stood unmoving as Umbridge unhooked the chain, looking at the locket longingly before she finally handed it over.

"And Pius will remember that I co-operated?"

"But of course. Much better that you co-operated." A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he regarded her. He would have been quite content to dispatch her himself. She was a truly odious woman, but her complete belief in the Ministry as an end in itself, with her undoubtedly deep-rooted prejudices could be brought to serve the Dark Lord in the long run. She would have her uses.

~oOo~

The Dark Lord caressed the locket then held it between his hands as if drawing warmth from it.

"Well done, Severus. Well done."

Snape very much wanted to know where the Dark Lord would hide his recovered treasure but knew better than to show too much interest, so he stood silently and waited for the Dark Lord to speak.

"What did the old man do with my ring?"

"I don't know, my Lord. I saw it broken – he cleaved it open with the Sword of Gryffindor ..."

"... and destroyed my horcrux. However, it was the Gaunt family ring. When you are appointed headmaster, you must find it for me."

"My Lord, yes."

"Now, Severus, I must travel for a few days. I entrust to you the research to free my soul from Harry Potter."

"I shall not disappoint you."

"Indeed, you never do, my faithful servant."

~oOo~


	5. Chapter 5

Dumbledore's arcane magic books were strewn across the library desk, each open at the chapters on Horcruxes. Snape's long finger traced a line of Aramaic script, and then traced his thin lips. By Snape's calculations, the Dark Lord had made seven Horcruxes. Only six had been intended, but the seventh residing in Potter had been accidental.

He had worked on these calculations for days on end and it occurred to Snape that the Dark Lord's soul must have already been wildly unstable by that fateful Hallowe'en if a shard of soul had torn itself away without the complex ritual set out in these books. It was a very deliberate ritual: making a Horcrux by accident should not have been possible.

Snape's mouth set in a thin line as he bent back to his Arithmantic calculations. Snape's theory was that the premature nature of the Horcrux's creation should give them hope that it could be removed with the full ritual and relocated in a more fitting reliquary – an act of perfection, as it were.

If it were Snape, he would want to rejoin it to the original portion housed by the Dark Lord himself to stabilise the soul once more, but the books spoke of great acts of remorse being required for such reunion. Snape snorted. That would never happen.

The Dark Lord entered the library and Snape stood and inclined his head in deference, as Yaxley followed in his wake.

"The Ministry is in my hands, Severus," the Dark Lord announced. "Scrimgeour is dead. Thicknesse is appointed in his place."

"Great news, my Lord."

"Yes, I finally begin my great work." The Dark Lord paced the library and then looked at some of Snape's calculations, and nodded with approval.

"I have instructed him to start work on new Blood Status laws to prove Wizarding descent and that woman, Umbridge, has come forward with quite the plan to round up mudbloods. We must stop the rot, Severus."

"I'm sure whatever plan Umbridge comes up with will be well-researched and thorough, my Lord," said Snape. He had known her own prejudices would have their uses.

"And when we have finalised this work," the Dark Lord indicated Snape's notes, "we must discuss installing you at Hogwarts. Attendance shall be compulsory for all magical children with Blood Status and I entrust them to your tender mercies."

Snape smiled tightly, wishing the mantle of headmaster would fall to anyone other than himself. The types of children educated at home were normally the pampered or incapable, as far as Snape was concerned. Still, whilst the student ranks would be swollen by these, at least they would be reduced by the lack of muggle-borns. Small mercies, he supposed, as the Dark Lord dictated the announcements he wished Yaxley to deliver to _The Daily Prophet._

"And there is this, Severus." The Dark Lord pulled a velvet pouch from his robe and placed it on the desk where Snape worked. "What do you make of it? It was a bequest for Harry Potter from Dumbledore."

Snape's eyebrows shot up and he looked at the Dark Lord and back to the pouch, itching to see what Dumbledore had left the boy.

"Open it," the Dark Lord instructed indulgently, seeing Snape's eyes alight with interest. "Scrimgeour held on to it for the maximum period whist the Unspeakables investigated it, but they could find nothing."

Snape opened the pouch with trepidation and saw ... a snitch. He frowned.

"A memento of his first match, apparently," said the Dark Lord, lightly.

Snape remembered it.

"Thicknesse tells me snitches have flesh memories, Severus, but they had no ..." his lips twisted in a parody of a smile, "beneficiary upon whom to test it!"

Snape's eyes widened as the Dark Lord nodded, an eyebrow arched. The Dark Lord swept out and Snape and Yaxley followed, going straight to the bedroom where Narcissa kept watch on the drugged boy.

Narcissa moved away from the bed and Snape removed his charms that kept the boy and the Horcrux free from interference. The Dark Lord peered at the child, as if he were a specimen of particular scientific interest, and then lifted the boy's messy fringe with the tip of his wand to look at the scar he himself had made.

He held out his white, spiderlike hand to Snape who passed him the snitch. He was about to place the snitch against the boy's hand when Snape spoke.

"He nearly swallowed that snitch, my Lord."

The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow and then he leant forward and pressed the snitch to the boy's lips.

In spite of himself, Snape leaned in closer, watching as Dumbledore's copperplate handwriting appeared on its surface.

_I open at the close._

The words then vanished, but the Dark Lord's face cracked open in a hideous smile, and Snape knew the Dark Lord had understood the meaning of the conundrum.

"From your own mouth, dear Dumbledore."

The Dark Lord pointed his wand at the boy's temple and placed the snitch to Potter's lips once more.

"He is about to die," he hissed, malevolently.

The snitch broke open and nestled inside it sat the black stone that had once been inlaid in the Gaunt ring. The Dark Lord snatched it, flinging the snitch on the floor, and turned it over and over in his hands.

"What is that mark, Severus? Is that not Grindelwald's mark?"

Snape peered at it: a circle within a triangle, with a jagged crack running along a bisecting line. He had never seen it before.

"I don't know, my Lord."

"Yes. I am sure it is Grindelwald's mark. But this ring was much older than Grindelwald. This is an heirloom of the Gaunt family, _my _ancestors, many generations old." He snatched his hand around the stone again. "I must know what it means!"

"Were there any other such odd bequests?" Snape asked Yaxley.

"My Lord, Thicknesse said the mudblood, Granger, received the old man's copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ and the blood traitor, Weasley, a deluminator – it puts out and restores lights. Both were tested quite stringently, of course, but - "

"But," interrupted the Dark Lord, repressively, "let us not pretend that the Ministry has wizards of Dumbledore's skill working for it! I, however ..." the Dark Lord's sentence trailed away as he thought.

"I don't see what a book of Wizarding fairy tales could mean –" blustered Yaxley.

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed, and Snape remembered that Dumbledore had told him the Dark Lord had been brought up in a Muggle orphanage: he would not know any of these tales. Snape himself, as a half-blood brought up with a magic-hating Muggle father, only knew of them vaguely, snippets he remembered his mother telling him when he was small. Pure-bloods, like Yaxley, were probably steeped in this stuff and rarely gave it a second thought.

"Were the children given these bequests?" asked Snape.

"Weasley's been given his," said Yaxley. "We can't trace the mudblood or her parents, so the book is still held by the Ministry." The Dark Lord glared at Yaxley, his eyes darkening to the crimson of spilt blood. Yaxley paled. "I ... I ... I will bring it to you directly, my Lord."

~oOo~


	6. Chapter 6

"So that's the story of The Three Brothers," said Snape, as he finished reading the chapter in Dumbledore's book to himself. He looked again at the drawing in the corner of the plate page to which the Dark Lord pointed: exactly the same symbol as on the black stone.

"I asked Ollivander about this," said the Dark Lord, standing in the doorway, clearly having overhead Snape. "It appears he hasn't quite outlived his usefulness."

_Ah,_ Snape thought, _that explains the screaming_.

"The three brothers are believed to be the Peverell brothers."

"They _existed_ – the brothers? The Hallows?" asked Snape. The Dark Lord nodded.

"An invincible wand, a cloak of true invisibility and a stone to call back ..." the Dark Lord sneered, "_loved ones_ from the dead. To what purpose, I cannot imagine." The Dark Lord turned the cracked stone in his hand once more.

"Potter has an invisibility cloak. Dumbledore told me it was a true one." Snape remembered it from the Shrieking Shack: he had certainly never seen one so fine.

"I wonder if Potter is descended from the Peverells?" mused the Dark Lord.

"I'm sure any of the Malfoys or Lestranges could put their genealogical libraries to good use, my Lord."

"Quite so, Severus. See one is instructed. Perhaps the Malfoy boy. He has little other use," hissed the Dark Lord scornfully then his eyes narrowed. "I should like to have such magical relics." The Dark Lord walked soundlessly to the window and looked out over the grounds of Malfoy Manor. "I should like to possess the Elder Wand." He turned to Snape, his red eyes alight with avarice. "He who unites the Deathly Hallows becomes Master of Death. Who better than I – I, who have gone further than any wizard to master death?"

"None better, my Lord," Snape nodded. "The boy did not have the cloak when I brought him back here, but I am certain he must have used it that night. It may still be there if the Tower has not been searched. Of course, if it is the true cloak, I imagine it immune to Summoning charms. Someone will have to search by hand."

"It is time your appointment was made in any event, Severus. You must search for this artefact for me. In the meantime, I have some business with another wandmaker."

~oOo~

Snape swept through the corridors of the ancient castle, his face set in grim lines. He could only hope he wouldn't be required here for long. Others might find the Headmaster's position an honour but Snape certainly did not. Bearing the ultimate responsibility for dunderheaded children with neither wit nor talent was not what Snape considered a reward for his years of loyal service. He wanted to be free of the shackles of tutelage. The only academia that interested him was for his own advancement and that of the cause he espoused.

He had gone straight to the Astronomy Tower in the hope that one of his missions could be accomplished speedily, even if it did mean he had to get on his hands and knees to search for the damned thing!

His scrabbling about in the dust had been rewarded. The cloak was as fine as gossamer and had crumpled into a small ball just by the door of the spiral staircase, out of anyone's path. The boy must have seen it all. Snape raised an eyebrow and smirked. He couldn't help himself when he imagined the boy's Gryffindorian righteous rage and distress and remembered how the idiot child had thrown himself after Snape that night, heedless of his own safety and Dumbledore's sacrifice.

_And this is the Chosen One?_ Snape had thought with derision. _No intelligence, no sense._ Snape had shaken his head as he'd folded the cloak into a pocket of his robe.

And now he stood before the gargoyle of the Headmaster's office.

"New password?" it asked.

Snape smiled with satisfaction. The castle recognised his authority. Perhaps ... just perhaps, it would not be so bad - for a short time at least. He certainly could enjoy re-setting passwords frequently that would make the other teachers spit with anger having to repeat them. His smile broadened unpleasantly as he considered the first such password to set the tone.

"The Heir of Slytherin."

~oOo~

"Good day, Headmaster," the various portraits chorused.

Snape held a thin hand up in acknowledgement, his sharp dark eyes finding the portrait of Dumbledore, smiling at him benignly.

_Oh, this is too good,_ Snape thought as Dumbledore said, "How have you been, my boy?"

Snape couldn't deny that there was a certain excitement building in him to tell Dumbledore that, after all these years, he was really not Dumbledore's man. But then, Snape knew the old man's expertise and esoteric learning was still worth more to him, freely given, than having to extract his co-operation under the vow all former headmasters gave to assist the head of the school. And besides, who knew how many portraits Dumbledore had in the do-gooding salons of the Wizarding world where he could easily ruin Snape's plans? No – it was best to keep the old man on side.

"It has been difficult, Dumbledore. At times," Snape approached the portrait with his usual air of surly contrition, "I thought my cover would break."

_Not exactly a lie,_ thought Snape. _There were plenty of times I nearly lost my cover with you!_

"Severus, you take such great risks." Dumbledore leant forward in his chair. "Have you heard how Harry is?"

Snape smothered his instant irritation.

"I don't know. He has not been heard of in the Wizarding world – at least, not as far as I know. Miss Granger and her parents are also missing."

"Good. Good. With any luck, Miss Granger has got her parents to safety and she is with Harry and Ronald Weasley."

"Are you going to tell me where you hope they will be? What they will be doing?" asked Snape, even though he knew Dumbledore would not answer him.

"I do not think so."

Snape snorted. _If only Dumbledore knew where his golden boy was now. _

"Are you not placed to find out for certain? Do you not have other portraits – in the Ministry or such places?"

"I have faith in Harry and his companions. And yes, there are other portraits of me, but those official places are now under Voldemort's control."

Snape nodded. "The coup was swift and silent."

"You sound as if you almost admire it, Severus," commented Dumbledore.

Snape smiled tightly.

"I do not deny that I am pleased there was not too much bloodshed," returned Snape waspishly, congratulating himself on covering his slip quite well and turning the tables on the old Gryffindor. "Would a greater loss of life have been preferable?"

"Perhaps you are right in that respect. In another, it is very much a Slytherin coup. Quiet, deadly and against the will of the majority and in the interests of the few."

"Hmm, I think I must have missed universal enfranchisement, Dumbledore. I don't recall having a vote for any Minister of Magic. I believe that is an entirely Muggle concept." Snape ran his finger along Dumbledore's desk – no – _his_ desk, and then looked at Dumbledore's shrewd expression. "I'm just pointing out that there is no democratic mandate in the Wizarding world."

"People will know now that there is such a dramatic shift in policy. They will suspect Voldemort is behind it."

"Yes, but only suspect. The Dark Lord is content to be the power behind the throne, as it were. That way, he can direct matters whilst Thicknesse takes any political flak and the personal risk."

"Not overt power?" asked Dumbledore. "I would have thought Voldemort would relish the spotlight."

"Control," said Snape, "_is_ power."

Snape turned his attention to the papers amassing on the desk (_his_ desk) and wondered how much claptrap he'd have to listen to before Dumbledore told him the purpose of his second bequest to Potter: the Sword of Gryffindor. Snape needed to know what message Dumbledore had been trying to give the boy with a bequest that was sure to fail. After all, the Dark Lord had plans for that sword. Great plans indeed.

~oOo~


	7. Chapter 7

~oOo~

"Remember, Severus," said Dumbledore's portrait. "You must act your part convincingly. They must not suspect your true allegiance."

"I think I am up to the task, Dumbledore," replied Snape silkily.

Snape sat back in the throne-like chair and steepled his fingers. He looked at the four chairs ranged in front of him, raised an eyebrow and then Banished them. The corner of his mouth quirked as he imagined their reactions to the slight.

"Come!"

The door opened and Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Slughorn and Sprout entered, each eyeing him with varying degrees of suspicion and distaste.

"Good day, Severus," said Slughorn, somewhat warily as he looked for a chair to seat his vast bulk upon. "Congratulations on your appointment."

Snape inclined his head and looked at each of the others. Minerva's lips had never been thinner and she radiated contained distrust. Flitwick, despite his size, stood straight and defiant, his eyes calculating. Pomona watched Snape carefully, her usually kind and open face masked.

"Good morning _staff_."

It was calculated to offend, and offend it did. Snape didn't hide his contemptuous smile at the noises of dismay and outrage issuing from the Heads of House in front of him.

"Silence," he hissed.

The four fell into shocked silence.

"Now. You have been told that I have been appointed to this – ah – important role in the pastoral care of the future of wizardkind. I am honoured to accept the appointment although it will not be confirmed publicly until the first day of term. I ask you to respect this."

"Oh, you ask, do you, Severus?" Minerva snapped.

"_Professor_ McGonagall, let us not forget our manners," chided Snape.

"Our ... our manners!" blustered Minerva. "You dare speak of manners in that infuriating fashion as you sit at Albus's desk! The man you -"

"- be careful what you say, _Minerva_," Snape interrupted, a dangerous edge to his voice. He could not afford to have this discussed before the portrait – especially as it might lead to the revelation that no-one from the Order had seen Potter since Dumbledore's death. As far as possible, the portrait must be kept ignorant.

"I'm sure your Gryffindors would be most disappointed to lose their Head of House before term even begins."

"You are threatening me, Severus?"

There was no mistaking the tremble of anger in her tone. Snape's eyes locked with her own in challenge.

"Not you. No."

He heard Pomona gasp and Flitwick stepped forward.

"Now see here, Severus -"

"No. Let's be quite clear." Snape tone was low and deliberate. "I will not tolerate dissension. I will not allow gossip. I will have loyalty from my staff. If you wish to remain in these posts – providing care and _protection_ for your charges," he stressed the word, knowing each would pick up on the implied threat, "you will follow these rules. Do not think you cannot be replaced by those more amenable to the present regime."

Snape stood on the dias, looking down his long nose at the four, daring them to challenge him, feeling the thrill of power over those who had once had control of him as a student and who, whether deliberately or negligently, had so singularly failed him. He was tempted to say more. He wanted to crow. He suppressed it. He would take his pleasure gradually – like a tasting menu: he would savour each morsel of revenge until it made a feast.

"Dismissed."

~oOo~

"Perhaps, that was a little over-enthusiastic," said the portrait, after the professors had left in high dudgeon.

"It is important there is no room to doubt my commitment to the Dark Lord, don't you agree?" said Snape lightly, concealing his delight at the look of incandescent fury he had received from Minerva.

Snape returned his attention to his desk.

He was fairly sure that Dumbledore had _never_ done this amount of paperwork. Or any paperwork, for that matter. Snape glared at the stacks of requisitions for stationery, foodstuffs, library books, curriculum aids and all manner of minutiae plus Ministry and parental correspondence as if willing it all to combust with shame at its existence.

_Minerva._ She remained Deputy Headmistress.

With an unpleasant smirk and an impatient wave of his wand, the administrative paperwork scooped itself into an orderly bundle, looped with green ribbon; the correspondence he would answer himself. He summoned a house-elf.

"Deliver this to Professor McGonagall."

"Severus!" the portrait clucked. Snape snorted.

With his back once more to the portrait, Snape eyed the Sword of Gryffindor contained in its case on the wall.

What he needed was a diversion – for the portrait to worry that the sword was insecure and instruct him to remove it. That would take some engineering. Perhaps, that would have to wait until the pupils returned to school.

~oOo~

The pupils would not return to school for another three weeks and there was still much to be done. Most of the administrative work had been delegated to Minerva without further reference to her. Snape didn't worry that it would not be undertaken: he was sure that her Gryffindor stubbornness would ensure she carried out all tasks to her exacting standards as a matter of pride. How easy she was to manipulate.

However, the important thing was that it freed his time to deal with more interesting matters.

He picked up the parcel of documents he received from Yaxley's contact in the Department of International Magical Co-operation and spread the certificates and testimonials across the table. _Just the job._

~oOo~

In the public surgery room of the party's head quarters, Snape sat at the formica covered table, his hands crossed in front of himself on the table, concealing his wand underneath. He frowned with intense concentration at the portly man with the slick hairstyle and sharp suit.

"We have met previously through a recommendation by Head Office. The curriculum vitae before you is the best that you have seen. Top flight academics from Harvard Business School, references from the current administration for radical new solutions for this new era of government. I suggest you welcome me aboard and we discuss my terms for flexible working to assist you with the Defence portfolio."

The blank face of Clive Barnaby, MP for Cokeworth, junior Defence Minister, suddenly brightened into a wide, welcoming smile and he rose, extending a chubby hand to Snape.

"You will be a valued asset to my team, Mr. Prince. I look forward to working with you. When can you start?"

Snape graciously inclined his head with a slight smile.

~oOo~


	8. Chapter 8

"There you go, Prince," said Barnaby amiably as he held up a folder. "This contains the first set of briefing notes I had and will acquaint you with the basic structure of the country's defence network." He chortled. "Lesser scale than you're used to, I dare say, but still in depth for this stage."

_Moron_, thought Snape as he took the folder with a small smile. "That's very good of you."

"Sorry I can't let you take it from my study, but it's 'Eyes-only' so it can't leave the premises until we get your DV clearance."

"Not to worry," said Snape smoothly, knowing his overseas contacts had already taken care of the checks and references for his developed vetting clearance for access to Top Secret documents. That would come through shortly, but he needed to get his plans underway. "As you say, this will give me an overview. Yes thank you: milk, no sugar."

Barnaby's expression clouded in confusion momentarily, and then cleared.

"Tea! Yes! How silly of me to forget. I'll just get that." Barnaby left the study as Snape's wand slipped further into his hand, still concealed in his pocket. Snape sent a wave of magic pulsing around the room, knowing it would interfere with the Secret Service monitoring devices installed in the junior minister's study. Quickly, he charmed copies of the contents of the folder and minimised the copies to fit in his jacket pocket. He cancelled his magical interference spell and settled down to read just as Barnaby clattered in with a tea tray.

"We have a meeting with Joe and Artie at 3, followed by a meet and greet with the guys from Alastair's team. That's quite stressful first time – he's a bit of a Tartar, but terribly good at what he does and all that," Barnaby chattered as he bustled about and Snape wondered how on earth the party had thought this upper class clot pretending to be one of them would suit a constituency like Cokeworth. "After that, it'll be all systems go." Barnaby made a gesture with his flat hand of a plane taking off and beamed at Snape, offering a plate. "Custard cream?"

_Moron. _

"Oh yes please."

~oOo~

The Dark Lord had requested admittance to the grounds of Hogwarts. Snape let him through the gates and was then dismissed. He returned to the castle, pleased to carry on the work he had begun before the summons had flared through his arm.

He had met civil servants and special advisors with Barnaby and had seen for himself the power of the unelected officials who stood in the shadows and who spoke the deceptive and evasive language of politics and emergent spin. Could anything suit Snape better? He found he understood them completely, especially with the addition of mild Legilimency to ensure they received the answers they wanted to hear to all the questions they asked, direct or indirect. Needless to say, they all got on famously.

He had no doubt that his flexible post of special advisor to the Junior Minister of Defence would provide him with ample opportunity to meet and 'influence' those Ministers and advisors further up the chain of command – all in good time.

In the meantime, however, Snape had spread out the copied papers from Barnaby in the private study behind the Headmaster's office, away from the portrait's incessant prattle. His comprehensive notes now built up to his side, furthering his plans for control.

He had noted all the military research and manufacturing facilities within the United Kingdom and, in turn, sub-divided these into the nuclear sites, conventional ordnance and biological warfare. Each facility would need to be investigated further for Snape to report to the Dark Lord on the many ways that Muggles had to defend themselves once the Dark Lord decided to take wizardkind out of hiding.

The Dark Lord was immensely powerful magically. He had torn the Brockdale Bridge apart as if it were paper. It had chilled Snape to the bone to see it, but it had excited him too. Now Dumbledore was gone, there would be no wizard to match that power. But Snape needed to ensure that the Dark Lord's displays of force did not bring them to the attention of the Muggle Ministry of Defence and the counter-intelligence agencies too soon. The Muggle authorities must believe they were dealing with prosaic murderers and terrorists until such time as Snape – as the Dark Lord (he corrected himself) - was ready. Until magical Britain was completely subdued.

The Statute of Secrecy had been instituted to protect wizardkind from the avaricious grasp of Muggles who sought to exploit the magical – or murder them if they resisted. As far as Snape was concerned, Muggles in general were a squalid reflection of Snape's father who had turned to brutish violence when Eileen's magic could not conjure him gold.

Well, their tools of oppression were far more sophisticated than the burnings and trials of old, much of it was almost like magic itself - but wizardkind still had magic – raw, innate and inexhaustible.

Magic and technology did not mix, a fact Snape was determined to exploit to the fullest.

Snape had made great strides in persuading the Dark Lord to bide his time. Once he had secured the access and influence he needed, his hand-picked operatives, once trained, could be insinuated in the critical positions required to render Muggle defences useless against them.

His plans were now proceeding apace.

~oOo~

"It doesn't work for me, Severus."

Snape stood before the Dark Lord in the Manor library, awaiting further elucidation. None was forthcoming.

Snape looked surreptitiously at the Dark Lord's surroundings to try to guess what was failing him but he saw nothing.

"My Lord?" Snape questioned softly.

The Dark Lord looked up as if seeing Snape anew. Then he placed a wand on the table.

It was Dumbledore's wand.

Snape frowned.

"Ah. You noticed this wand. Dumbledore had it all along, Severus. Dumbledore won the Elder Wand from -"

"- Grindelwald?" murmured Snape, staring at the wand he'd seen Dumbledore use so often.

"Just so."

"Is this what isn't working, my Lord? I'd find that difficult to ..."

"No, no. It is _this_ that fails." The Dark Lord opened his hand, revealing the Resurrection Stone on his palm.

"I thought it might be amusing to bring Dumbledore here for a chat." The Dark Lord closed his hand again and turned the Resurrection Stone over in his hand. "But it doesn't work for me." He swivelled his head towards Snape. "Why do you think that is, Severus? Am I not now the Master of Death?"

Snape inclined his head.

"If I may, my Lord?" The crimson eyes narrowed but Snape continued. "As I recall, it has the power to recall _loved ones_ from the dead. I believe ... you did not love Dumbledore."

The Dark Lord regarded Snape and then his face fractured into a grotesque smile, and a high, shrill laugh escaped him.

"How right you are, Severus. How right you are."

The Dark Lord's smile faded slowly and his expression became inscrutable as he raised his eyes to Snape's and held out the stone.

Snape did not hide his confusion.

"Call her, Severus. Call your Mudblood to you."


	9. Chapter 9

~oOo~

_Call Lily._

Snape's mind went momentarily blank in shock.

Could he call Lily? Did he want to call her? What use would her revenant be to him?

An echo of Lily would be devoid of the life and laughter he had so jealously coveted – the resplendent red hair, sparkling eyes, joyful laugh, fierce determination and quick intellect.

Fiery. Passionate. Vital.

Alive.

What wouldn't he have given once to have possessed her? That was the Lily he had come to desire beyond all reason when he was young. But that was the Lily who had chosen Potter over him; the Lily who had died rather than save herself - for him.

Why would he want to see her dead self? Or be reminded what he did not attain?

He did not miss her. She was dead. He had moved on long ago as much as he had allowed Dumbledore to think otherwise.

No.

"I merely desired her, my Lord." Snape said smoothly. "You always understood me."

The Dark Lord regarded Snape through narrowed eyes.

"Yes. I said as much then." A smug smirk played at the corners of the Dark Lord's lips. "Call your mother then. I understand other men -" (Snape heard 'lesser men' in the intonation) "- love their mothers."

Well, he could do without that as well. His mother really had become quite wretched under his father's oppression towards her end. But he had loved her once and he could see the Dark Lord wanted satisfaction.

Snape closed his eyes and turned the stone in his hand three times.

~oOo~

It had been a pitiful reunion, shaming in fact, in front of the Dark Lord who sneered at Snape's mother's emotional outpouring of sorrow for her son. The Dark Lord snorted in derision after a short time and then left the room, sneering.

Snape put the stone down and the spirit of his mother disappeared abruptly. Snape stared at the stone: the Dark Lord had not taken the stone with him.

Why?

Surely, he could not have forgotten it: it was one of the Deathly Hallows.

Snape sat heavily as he looked at the stone on his desk.

The stone should have worked for the Dark Lord. The text had said the stone would call back the dead. It was folklore handed down through the ages that had embellished the tale, drawing out the tragedy of the second brother to say the stone would call "loved ones" back from the dead.

Why was the Dark Lord unable to use it?

It was an enigma. It would need careful consideration and careful questioning of those who might know – but the germ of a suspicion began to grow.

Was the Dark Lord not the Master of Death after all?

~oOo~

Snape had not anticipated Ronald Weasley returning to school. Of course, attendance was compulsory so why would he not?

_Because Dumbledore expects him to be with Harry Potter_, he snarled angrily to himself as he stormed from the Headmaster's office to meet with Professor McGonagall. He could hardly discipline Weasley for his duel with Draco in front of Dumbledore's portrait. The game really would be up then.

~oOo~

Draco still hadn't forgiven Snape for usurping his father in the Dark Lord's hierarchy. The boy had never understood how ineffectual his father had been – just how much Malfoy had had to rely on money and influence for his position. But he had let the Dark Lord down so very badly: first the diary then the prophecy.

But whilst Snape knew he was not forgiven, the boy himself might have his uses, especially one who found himself without a protector and whose failure on the Tower had earned him the scorn of the Dark Lord. A boy like that could be put to work on Snape's behalf, if Snape played this right.

"Weasley's nothing but a dirty blood-traitor," stormed Draco. "Why didn't you give him to the Carrows?" Snape steered Draco into Slughorn's office. "You just want to show your power over me!"

"If Weasley doesn't learn to behave, the Carrows can have him. But first, I have given him the opportunity to remember that his sister is in the school, and his parents would like to think he is safe. There are ways and means to get co-operation, Draco."

Draco sneered, but it was a weak sneer – the sneer of a young man desperate to prove himself.

"I suppose you think because you killed an unarmed man, you're somehow better than me."

"That Dumbledore chose not to defend himself is not my concern, Draco."

"He didn't choose not to defend himself!" railed Draco, stabbing his fingers to his own chest. "I disarmed him. It was me!"

"Did you indeed?" said Snape softly, although the click in his mind seemed to him to be as loud as a thunderclap.

Was Draco the master of the Elder Wand? Did that have any correlation with the Resurrection Stone?

_Draco?_ As gutless as he was spineless.

Even as Snape listened carefully to Draco recounting the events on the Astronomy Tower, Snape realised that somehow he would need to contrive a meeting with Ollivander.

~oOo~

The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters spread fear, discord and disharmony throughout Wizarding Britain.

The main newspapers and radio stations were under the puppet Ministry's control and disinformation and ugly rumour spread like wildfire. All were encouraged or even coerced to inform on their neighbours and friends who were blood-traitors or Mudbloods. Wizardkind soon learnt to keep any anti-Ministry sentiments or Muggle sympathies to themselves. Disappearances and murders were increasing. The use of Unforgiveables by those in authority had been legalised. The Muggle-born Registration Commission was working at full capacity conducting hearings for the theft of magic each and every day. The resulting convicts were transported to Azkaban without farewells to their families.

The climate of fear was absolute, bolstered by the freed Dementors. Snape had no doubt that the Dark Lord's position would be consolidated within the year and wizardkind would then come out of hiding with the Dark Lord at the helm.

Snape's own plans to neutralise any Muggle defences against them were also proceeding apace.

~oOo~

Over the last few months, Snape's influence with Barnaby had grown and Barnaby now made no decisions without Snape's particular brand of input. Snape had unfettered access to all information, networks and facilities to which the Junior Minister had. Through this, he had met other junior ministers and their advisors. His circle of Confunded and Imperiused contacts had enlarged significantly.

Snape followed Barnaby into the Defence Council's Briefing Room, murmuring his greetings to the other advisors as Barnaby glad-handed his peers. As Snape circulated, he knew from the previous meetings which men were natural Occlumens or resistant to mild coercion spells.

It surprised Snape that some Muggles had natural Occlumency proficiency. It seemed especially prevalent in the political arena where true motives were shrouded by so many layers of deceit. It was also apparent in some high-ranking military personnel he'd met so far. In those cases, it seemed to be due to their ingrained singularity of purpose. He couldn't afford to lose access to these military men. He would have to work hard at infiltrating their minds.

However, those civil servants and politicians who he found were impervious to his persuasion would need to be side-lined, where possible. To have the influence to accomplish this, he needed his next target.

The current briefing was being given by the heads of the nuclear facilities to the Secretary of State for Defence, Stephen Stark, and his three deputies and the junior ministers. It was Stark Snape now had in his own sights - Barnaby had just been the stepping stone to this bigger fish.

As the meeting progressed, he kept himself to the background, passing briefing notes to Barnaby. Snape calculated and passed Barnaby the budgetary figures he'd amalgamated by appropriating the best of the other advisors' calculations.

Barmaby jumped in, exactly as Snape had primed him earlier, and reported on Snape's budgetary analysis. Stark eyed Barnaby shrewdly. Snape didn't need to be a Legilimens to understand that Stark shared Snape's low opinion of Barnaby. His eyes flicked from Barnaby to Snape and he smiled knowingly, and then they moved on.

At the end of the briefing, Stark made his way over to Barnaby and Snape.

"I'd like to hear more of this analysis – Prince, isn't it?"

Snape nodded and Barnaby beamed in the reflected glory.

"Told you he'd be an asset, didn't I?" gushed Barnaby, clapping Snape on the shoulder.

Stark nodded, clearly calculating Snape's usefulness to him.

"Let's you and I have a chat, Prince. I think we may be able to offer each other some synergies."

Snape smiled tightly, just noticing the fleeting look of concern on Barnaby's face at his exclusion. Snape would be moving up the chain of command, but he had no intention of losing control of Barnaby or any other junior politician – he needed his contacts on every rung of the ladder he was now scaling.

"I'd … er … I'd hate to lose you from my staff, Prince," Barnaby said as they left the building and got into the ministerial car. "I've rather come to rely on you."

"Don't worry," said Snape, locking eyes with Barnaby as his wand moved into his hand. "You'll retain my guidance, I assure you."

~oOo~

Within the week, Snape was able to report to the Dark Lord on his successful Imperiusing of the Secretary of State for Defence. Stark was the first of the three ministers Snape wanted to control. His next targets were the Home Secretary and the Foreign Secretary. They would be his most senior politicians, intended to be like sleepers in Muggle Cold War politics, ready to be put into play when the time came.

"And the Other Minister – when will I make myself known to him?" asked the Dark Lord, his eyes alight in anticipation.

"My thinking, my Lord, was that would be on your assumption of power over the Muggle Britain – you would announce it to the Muggle Prime Minister first."

The unearthly smile spread slowly across the Dark Lord's face.

"Yes. No point in showing our hand early. Well done, Severus. I look forward to your reports."

Then the Dark Lord moved around his desk.

"But there is one report that remains outstanding."

"My Lord?"

"The Sword, Severus. I have refined your calculations and I consider the ritual should take place on the anniversary of the making of the Horcux in Harry Potter. Hallowe'en, Severus. I must have the Sword for Hallowe'en."

~oOo~


	10. Chapter 10

Snape had spent hours in a debriefing meeting with Stark. It had gone well, but he was tired and wanted to rest. Not yet though: he had another duty to fulfil before he could retire this night.

Snape stood before the front door of number twelve Grimmauld Place. He didn't understand why the Order had never created a new Fidelius. Such an oversight, but all to the good.

He entered after the magical locks and chain undid themselves and the gas lamps sprang to life. He incanted a Revealing Charm but no-one was there. By the look of the grimy hall laden with dust, no-one had been there since Black had died.

He moved silently up the stairs taking particular care not to disturb Walburga Black's portrait until he found the empty ornate frame he required on the second landing.

"Phineas Nigellus," he commanded.

"Headmaster," Phineas Nigellus said as he slid into his portrait. "How may I assist you?"

~oOo~

It had been childishly easy. Phineas Nigellus had been instructed to leave his portrait when Snape was at his desk, pretending to be called to his portrait in Grimmauld Place. Of course, he could not refuse: he was obliged to assist the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Not that he would refuse. Snape knew the true allegiance of Phineas Nigellus.

After half an hour, Phineas Nigellus returned.

"I have just spent half an hour being interrogated by that Potter child and his companions," he lied.

"I'm not interested," clipped Snape.

"I am," said Dumbledore's portrait sharply. "Tell me, Phineas. How are they? What did they want?"

Snape smirked to his paperwork as the bait was taken, his eyes flicking to the cabinet where the Sword sat.

"The boy demanded I bring a message to you, as if I am some kind of house elf or owl. I told him I would not unless he told me where he has been and what he's been doing. I told him that you had been worried …"

"Phineas. Please," said Dumbledore. "What does Harry want?"

"He said to tell you he wasn't given your bequest. He wants to know what you want him to do." His voice became snide. "He is always clueless without you."

"It's too early," muttered Dumbledore. Snape inclined his head to try to catch what Dumbledore was saying.

"He said to tell you that he has two. He wouldn't tell me _what_ he had; just that he had two of them," prompted Phineas Nigellus.

"Two! He already has two! That is magnificent." Dumbledore sat forward in his portrait. "Severus, Harry is so much further ahead than I thought. He will need the Sword."

"The Sword, Dumbledore?" Snape feigned surprise. "The Sword of Gryffindor?"

"Yes. And you must see he gets it. Do you think you can arrange something?"

"Of course," said Snape silkily. "He is at Grimmauld Place?"

Phineas Nigellus nodded as Snape unlocked the cabinet next to his portrait and took the Sword.

"Remember! It must be taken under conditions of great need and valour."

"Leave it to me, Dumbledore. I have a plan."

_Too easy._

~oOo~

Snape knelt as he presented the Sword of Gryffindor to the Dark Lord on his outstretched palms. The Dark Lord circled Snape slowly, his eyes alight.

"One from each founder. As I always intended. Well done, Severus." He plucked the Sword from Snape's hands and traced the letters of Gryffindor's name with his long white fingers as if hypnotised. When he next spoke, the Dark Lord did not raise his eyes from the blade.

"Leave me."

Snape backed away to leave the Dark Lord to his reverie.

~oOo~

Snape passed the room that housed Harry Potter. Snape had not seen the boy for months. Out of interest, knowing now that the time for the horcrux transfer ritual was fast approaching, he let himself in without acknowledging the house-elf who guarded the boy. He walked towards the comatose teenager, noting how his hair had grown, looking a little less wild now that it was longer. Narcissa (or more likely her house-elves) had kept the boy clean and nourished.

He briefly wondered what would happen to Lily's child once the Dark Lord had retrieved the soul shard but found – he really did not care. With that, he left the room and, knowing that the Dark Lord would be assessing his newest prize, went to find Ollivander in the dungeons below.

~oOo~

Getting the Sword to the Dark Lord had been simple. Thinking of a story of derring-do and valour had been quite an exercise for Snape. He searched his memory for something which might be dangerous and requiring the Sword of Gryffindor in Grimmauld Place, yet all he could remember was the endless cleaning that the house seemed to require.

Then a smile slowly broke over his face as he recalled Arthur telling the story before an Order meeting of a murderous robe – before Dumbledore had arrived. Yes … it would serve well.

~oOo~

"A Lethifold, you say?" queried Dumbledore's portrait.

"Indeed. It was in one of the wardrobes in the master bedroom. I remembered Arthur telling us about it before one of the meetings. I made enough noise to bring them upstairs and then Weasley was attacked by it and Potter knew nothing of how to deal with them." Snape rolled his eyes.

"But Harry can cast a Patronus!"

"Yes, but he didn't _know_ that was the way to deal with them. So, he was flinging all manner of curses trying to save his friend, even as the Lethifold began to try to engulf Potter too. Utterly foolish, of course. How could the Sword not appear for him – especially when I had placed it so close by?"

"Very imaginative, Severus."

Snape blinked.

"Indeed."

"How did they look? Harry and his friends?"

"Potter needs a hair-cut." Snape snorted impatiently and bent back to his paperwork.

"Well done, Severus. And thank you."

~oOo~

"Just duelling practice, all right?" said Draco. "I just need some practice."

"Of course you do, Draco," said Snape silkily. "It behoves me to see my charges are best placed to help the Dark Lord in his great work. I am still your headmaster, if no longer Head of House." He put Draco through some warm-up exercises. "When you and Weasley duelled, who won? You didn't tell me." Snape did his best to look as if it was of no interest other than professional to him.

Draco snorted. "He just threw a _Furnuculus_ hex at me outside class but I deflected that easily enough."

"Take me through your duel, hex by hex. I can tailor this practice accordingly."

Draco narrowed his eyes, assessing Snape's sincerity. Then he nodded and regaled Snape with his duel with Weasley. As he finished, Snape was reassured that at least Weasley was not the Master of the Elder Wand, but Draco remained so. That said, Draco could easily be duelled by any of the Gryffindors who seemed to have taken up Potter's mantle as the thorn in Snape's side. Weasley – his sister – Longbottom (Snape nearly choked on the idea).

_No_, Snape resolved. He could not allow that to happen.

"Come then, Draco! Let us duel." They bowed and Snape shouted instructions to Draco even as he deflected every spell the boy sent his way. Patiently, he bided his time so Draco would not suspect which spell Snape was determined to cast with very real intention.

_"Expelliarmus!"_

~oOo~

Snape sat slowly at the desk in Malfoy Manor, never taking his eyes from the Resurrection Stone. He had not touched it since he had laid it aside after summoning his mother. Now he laid his own wand in front of it. He did not possess the Elder Wand but – if what Ollivander had told him was true – he, Severus Snape, was the master of the most powerful wand in the wizarding world.

Fear and excitement churned in the pit of his stomach. Impossible ideas were taking form. Ideas of unsurpassed power he had never had before.

Reckless notions.

Seductive dreams.

He stood suddenly and turned from the temptation on the table. He knew he was no match for the Dark Lord. He was loyal.

And yet … and yet …

_Foolish!_

He stowed his wand and snatched up the stone and made his way to the Dark Lord's presence.

~oOo~

Snape bowed as the Dark Lord acknowledged him, moving away from Bellatrix.

"If I may speak with you privately, my Lord?"

The Dark Lord's brow raised slightly in enquiry and then he smiled.

"What might be private between my most trusted Death Eaters, Severus?"

Snape heard a snort of derision from Bellatrix. Snape knew the Dark Lord liked to set his lieutenants against each other. Divide and conquer: it had ever been thus.

Snape held out his palm with the Resurrection Stone upon it.

"I just wished to return this, my Lord."

The Dark Lord stared at it the stone intently and then raised his wand and cast a revealing spell over it. Half a sneer formed on the reptilian visage as he picked the stone from Snape's hand.

"I knew you would not be tempted to use it on your own."

"You were testing me, my Lord?" A frisson of fear chased down Snape's spine.

"And you passed, Severus," the Dark Lord's unpleasant sneer slid to where Bellatrix stood sullenly, "as I knew you would."

"Your servant, my Lord," Snape smiled tightly and bowed as he was dismissed.

Snape walked slowly back to his room and sat, staring at the wand he held lightly between his fingertips. His fear had passed but his eyes narrowed as he thought bitterly on the test of trust he could so easily have failed.

But he was loyal.

Wasn't he?

~oOo~


End file.
